Professional. Aunt. No kids.

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I fell off the…..

date wagon ….. and I feel as guilty as if I’d got back on the crack after successfully completing rehab. It’s like I signed an invisible agreement with the dating police and made a promise to the people I love, that I’d never do it again – and now they’re all ‘very disappointed’ by my actions this week. Curiosity they say, killed the cat – and it has almost killed my recent positive, zen-like self in less than seventy-two hours. Buzz kill central.

I don’t know why I do it. Maybe I expect to log into a dating app, and be greeted by the handsome mush of the man of my dreams surrounded by a golden glow akin to the Ark of the Covenant scene in the Indiana Jones movie (before the face melting begins).

Accompanied by maybe a choir of angels – or at the very least a harp player materialising. That. Has. Not. Happened. Now listen, we all like to put our best face on our profiles, it’s our fluffing of feathers, puffing of chest, beating of drums, our courtship dance. ^hears Sir David Attenborough’s dulcet tones somewhere in the distance^….. But Sunday date looked like a worn-out, perpetually henpecked, heavy-smoking, grey version of his online self; and it made me cross. Now I’ll admit, my profile photos are full-on face full of natural daylight (and matching ‘no make-up’ makeup) – excellent for your best glowy self – fresh out of Sunday morning bed and shower. They are also mostly my ‘good side’. A good night’s sleep and mascara will work wonders for your chops. Also, there’s a photo of me and the sibs arseing around a couple of weeks ago. Natch. But, but – they’re all the last two months. With the exception of the one where I’m absorbing the vibrations of a didgeridoo into my chest. That was last summer. (Kinda liked it.)

Today I have had a really cool date with a doctor of medieval history WITH A BEARD AND TATTOOS, which was sssoooo good, and ssssooooo interesting and sooooo easy – but with no ‘spark’. Sod’s. Fucking. Law. What is the ‘x-factor’? And no, I refuse to ask Simon Cowell. He knows absolutely nothing. Do you know where any of his ‘stars’ are now? Exactly.

So, back on the wagon it is, and further down the road of animal adoption. Although the shine is even wearing off that now, the more I think of the compromises I’ll have to make. I’ve already run out of this rotor of potential dates – after only two. So, roll on Portugal, Germany and Christmas. And let’s see where the new year takes us.